How foolish these two are! She laughs to herself. How naive!
Didn't they know? Didn't they know?
They can't win. These pastel and pigtailed girls can't win.
They can't.
It's not winning!
She hides a sob in more laughter, spinning and spinning and spinning.
There!
There she is! This is her fault!
She laughs.
Come here!
Let me stop you! Becuase, little one, you see: you will only make it worse.
Her laughter rings throughout the city.
She supposes it could be mistaken for the shrieking of the wind.
She twirls through the air, bobbing through the sky and narrowly missing a bright pink streak of an arrow.
She's already taken down one. But. Not the one she wanted to.
No, that one is still fighting.
Just give up! You won't win this!
You can't win this!
You lost already, and you will never win.
She calls for her children. Her poor fallen sisters.
Although one in particular seems hesitant, they swarm on the last two left to fight.
She laughs.
Little sister. Little sister! Do your part.
Lift your sword.
This is mercy.
She takes pleasure in spitting fire as she spins.
No matter what, this town won't survive.
Why are you bothering to fight, little one?
You haven't figured it out yet.
This game is unwinnable.
We've already lost.
We will never save her.
Here!
She spins and spins.
All this effort, but you'll never succeed.
Better to just burn it all down. Give the people a show before the end.
Here we go, little one.
She howls, and descends on the city below.
This time. This will be the last time!